we sit

she watches me
i feel her eyes run along
my flesh as i
sit silent
reading another impossible tale
of absurdity in
argentinian prose

there is no coffee
no food in the pantries
just dried out husks
the sound of
acidic churning rumbling
through the dying night

we sit
alone together
as the sirens sing loudly
of early morning tragedies
on the couch
my perch in hollow night
still in the center
of a silken lattice
staring mindlessly
waiting for motion
in this emotionless haze

she watches me
her many legs still
considering how
to wrap my body
head to twitching toes
in spindles of thread
a feast for the famished
no nutritional content
empty calories
empty thoughts
together alone
with nothing except
argentinian prose
patiently awaiting
the slow rise of the lazy sun

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